


Three Years Later

by b3cc8



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2019-10-25 20:36:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 21,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b3cc8/pseuds/b3cc8
Summary: Aramis is First Minister. D’Artagnan is Captain of the Musketeers. Porthos is a General. Athos is... who knows where? But what happens when someone from the past brings these four brothers back together?





	1. Paris - Three Years On

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so this is my first Musketeers fanfic. Enjoy!!

Aramis waited in his office for the Captain of the Musketeers to meet him. He was looking forward to seeing D'Artagnan again as he hadn't in a while. He'd been too busy with affairs of state and his friend with training the new cadets with the help of wife Constance.

The two had become closer once Porthos and Athos were gone. Aramis’ brothers from years past and D’Artagnan’s from more recently yet had as strong as a bond. They were the last ones left in Paris so the friendship they held was even more vital. When Aramis' predecessor Treville had been in power, he kept a good relationship with the men he was in charge of. Aramis intended to do the same, for Treville's memory if anything.

Treville. Everyday Aramis thought of him. He still, after all these years, found it difficult to fill the shoes of a great man, a man who had made such an impact on his life from a young cadet to one of the greatest Musketeers they had ever seen. He wondered if his former Captain would be proud of him now, proud of all of them. Of D'Artagnan who now held another of Treville's old positions as Captain who had joined the Musketeers at such a young age, firstly there to settle a vendetta with Athos before becoming firm friends before gaining his commission protecting his Captain then becoming one himself. Of Porthos, who was at the front in a position of power, fighting for what was right and just and fair and teaching his men to do the same. Protecting France face to face with those who would see it destroyed, especially since Louis died and Anne became regent. And, of course, of Athos, another of thier former Captains and the best swordsman in the regiment who, after years of pain and anguish, had finally decided to let go and follow his own path, away from everything he knew. Aramis or D'Artagnan in no way blamed Athos for leaving, though it took D'Artagnan a while to get his head round the position his friend had handed to him.

 

Aramis saw his friend, his brother, walk through the door and a huge grin spread on his face. He got up from behind the table and stretched his arms out, embracing the Captain. He returned to his seat and D'Artagnan took one opposite the table. Soon, both were talking and laughing like old times. It just didn't feel right without the General and the former Captain however. They had always been the four of them. And that had all changed in an instant.

Aramis couldn't complain though. He had left them for four years before though and became a monk at the monastery at Douai. In a chance encounter with his friends, he knew the path he had chosen was entirely the wrong one and returned to Paris with his brothers.

"So how's training the new cadets going?" Aramis asked his brother, eager to know what D'Artagnan had been up to.

"Well, we have six new recruits. I sought them out personally. There's one in particular I would like you to meet. If you get a chance come to the Garrison. You'll agree with my choice with him." Aramis was confused. Who could it be? If D'Artagnan considered him to be so important, Aramis would do as the Captain asked. He would go later today after the council meeting.

"How do you think Athos is getting on?" The Captain asked the Minister. Athos had kept in touch with them for the first year or so, but had slowly stopped writing to them. It saddened the two, but what could they do? Athos had Sylvie, and a new place to live. Maybe he wanted to forget everything about his old life. Including the men he regarded as brothers.

The two friends say in silence for a few moments, contemplating the fate of thier brothers. D'Artagnan soon left as Aramis had to prepare for the council meeting which started in fifteen minutes. He felt good about speaking to his friend. This mystery cadet was playing on his mind though. He was itching to find out who it was. If D'Artagnan had recruited him personally, he would be good. Aramis remembered the day the Captain arrived at the Garrison. He'd fought with Athos because he thought the latter had killed his father, which turned out to be untrue. Aramis had been shocked then about the level of skill and determination the young boy already brought. He knew then he would be an asset to the regiment. His thoughts were confirmed when D'Artagnan beat Labarge in the Musketeers' challenge against the Red Guards, commanded at that point by the First Minister then, Cardinal Richlieu. Once Treville had disbanded the Red Guards during his reign as regent, Aramis had advised Anne to do the same. She agreed.

 

Aramis walked into the council chamber where it was filled with the exception of Anne, the Queen. Anne and Aramis kept a closely guarded secret. A secret which no-one alive apart from the two of them, D'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, Sylvie and Constance knew about. And they would make sure it remained that way.

Aramis was the father of the Dauphin, publicly the son to the late King Louis and the Queen. It had been a fleeting night, when both of them were hurting. Aramis found, that in his new position as First Minister, he was able to watch his son grow and play and love. And that in itself was enough for him. He was frustrated he couldn't connect with him in the way a father would, however he could be there for him and would help him grow up and become a great King.

Aramis took the spot to the left to the head of the table where the Queen would sit when she entered, which she shortly did. The council rose and greeted Her Majesty before the meeting began. Aramis was very much at the centre of proceedings and other members of the council had voiced to him about the shock of his quick rise to power, as they had done with Treville many years ago. Aramis still thought of himself as a Musketeer at heart, but knew that this was where he belonged, by Anne's side, in a position to protect France and his son. Aramis couldn't resist but glance at the Queen from time to time, the woman he had solely loved for years. Sometimes she ignored him, and sometimes she returned the looks, giving a small smile.

Soon the council meeting was over and Aramis made his way to the Garrison, eager to see what D'Artagnan had in store for him.


	2. Reunions and News

D'Artagnan greeted Aramis as the latter made his way into the Garrison. Aramis had been back to his home turf a few times since becoming First Minister and whilst he was here he had remminised about the old times. The good, all the adventures he had had with his friends, the beautiful women he had courted with, but also the bad, like missions that had gone horribly wrong, an example being the mission in Savoy where all but two Musketeers, them being Aramis and his friend Marsac, were killed. He missed it too much, having have spent many multiple good years there.  Aramis had thought back to these days but they were massively overwhelmed by positive memories which took up most of his consciousness.

The Captain took the Minister over to where the cadets were training. Aramis recognised the boy as soon as he saw him, and he couldn't help but smile.

"You didn't, did you?" He asked his friend.

"I'd seen him in practice obviously and I wanted him. I know he's young, but he's like Brujon, or me when I first arrived." The boy D'Artagnan was so desperate for Aramis to meet was a boy Aramis was in charge of when he was a monk. His name was Luc and when the Musketeers had arrived at the monastery, he had helped them stop Grimaud selling French gunpowder to the Spanish, almost getting killed in the process.

Brujon was a cadet who had finally gained his commission when the four friends parted ways and went to fight at the front with General Du Vallon.

"Luc!" D'Artagnan called the young cadet over who was in the middle of a bout with another. "Come here!" Luc walked over to them, sword in hand. Aramis was proud to see his protege living up to his full potential like this. Luc's gaze shifted between his Captain and the Minister, unsure if he believed it really was the man he thought it was.

"Aramis? Is that you?" The boy said in disbelief.

"Hello again young Luc. It seems our paths cross again. I always knew you would do well for yourself. I'm glad my friend here decided to take you in." Aramis beamed. In the four years or so since he had last set eyes on Luc, the boy had grown stronger and taller. He could see why D'Artagnan took such an interest in him. They were very similar.Both young starters, but both dedicated and committed, knowing what they wanted and determined to get it. That was clear for Aramis to see.

"Use my office," said D'Artagnan and Aramis and Luc climbed the stairs and into the Minister's familiar territory. They sat at the table, both still in shock that they met again.

"Captain D'Artagnan came back to the monastery and asked for me. When I met him, he told me there was a place in the cadets for me, if I wanted it. I thought back to all the advice you had given me and I knew that it was what I wanted to do. I never fitted in at Douai, you knew that. This was my calling and I answered it. Plus, it meant I could see you again. You impacted on me, Aramis. You've made a journey yourself, and I hope this time, the right one. You never fitted in at Douai either. Going from a monk to a Musketeer to First Minister of France. It seems we have both found our place." Aramis observed also that the boy had become more wise and intellectual. Luc as a younger boy was full of energy and had been reckless and took risks. D'Artagnan had made a very good choice. Aramis knew that Luc would be a fine, if not one of the best Musketeers there was.

Luc returned to the rest of his group. Aramis and D'Artagnan watched on. This was definetely where the Minister felt most comfortable. He enjoyed being back at the Garrison. He would have to come more often.

"The other cadets are from all over, but I've taken particular interest in Luc. He's special, that one."

"Thank you," Aramis said to his friend gratefully. "Thank you so much for giving him the chance he deserves. It means a lot." D'Artagnan smiled, a warm smile he had always brought when he knew a mission was done well or he was proud of something.

 

Aramis was back in his rooms when there was a knock on the door. He answered it and there was a sentry standing there.

"There's someone to see you Minister. He's in the main hall." Aramis thanked the guard and made his way down. Standing there was another face he recognised. Today was full of reunions for the old Musketeer. Brujon, the cadet turned Musketeer who had gone with Porthos to war stood there.

"I have news from the front Minister. News that you in particular will want to hear." Aramis took Brujon to his office and read the letter the young man held. Aramis scanned the letter and was shocked by what he read. He turned to Brujon.

"You can't be serious." Brujon smiled. He knew what it meant.

"Come on Brujon," he said, feeling elated. "Let's head over to the Garrison. D'Artagnan will want to hear of this." So Aramis was on his second trip of the day to the Garrison, accompanied by the man who had just given him one of the two best bits of news he had heard in a long time.

"Aramis, you're back," D'Artagnan said before turning his gaze to his old protege. Whilst Athos had been the Captain at the time, D'Artagnan had taken particular interest in a young Brujon. "Brujon! Great to see you again." They embraced.

"Brujon has brought news from the front, as well as news for the two of us," Aramis said to the Captain, handing him the letter. D'Artagnan gasped when he saw what Aramis was so happy about. He looked from the Minister to the young soldier and back to Aramis.

"Porthos is coming home," he said in disbelief.


	3. Anticipation

Aramis and D'Artagnan were sitting in the Captain's office with Brujon rereading the letter over and over again. Porthos was coming home. Only for two weeks the letter said, but still enough time to reunite with thier friend properly. The young solider had to start his journey back to the front tomorrow, so Aramis set him up with rooms in the Palace. He knew now his duty was to tell the Queen of the great news.

"He'll be here in four days," Brujon informed the Captain and Minister.

"Thank you Brujon. And good luck out there," D'Artagnan replied. "Send our good fortune to all those who fight." Brujon and D'Artagnan shook hands before the former and Aramis made their way to the Palace. Aramis showed Brujon to his rooms and the Musketeer bid goodnight. Aramis then made his way to the Queen's quarters. He knocked on the door and she answered promptly.

She let him in and waved her ladies in waiting away so the two of them were left alone.

"Your Majesty, I gave great news. General Du Vallon, Porthos, is to return home with news from the front. He will stay two weeks before returning."

"Good. How happy I will be to see my old friend again, and even more so for you."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Aramis turned to go.

"Aramis?" Anne said. The First Minister turned to face her again. "I truly am happy," she said walking closer to him. "For both of us. Everything as it is right now is the way it should be. Our son is growing strong and handsome, like his father."

"And wise and kind like his mother," Aramis remarked. He smiled. Anne leaned into Aramis and they kissed, something they'd been able to do more freely since the death of Louis. Still in privacy, but they weren't as anxious about being seen. No-one would walk in on them.

The Dauphin was now nine. He enjoyed horses and fighting, like all Kings did, his predecessor in particular.

"When is Porthos to arrive?" Anne asked.

"Four days' time. D'Artagnan already knows and Brujon delivered the message. He is to return tomorrow."

"How is D'Artagnan doing? I know I see him but it's mostly official business."

"Good. He has a new group of cadets, one of which I knew from a previous life."

"I'm glad he settled into the role of Captain well. It was a big ask after Treville and Athos had been there previously, but especially being so young, he's done well." Aramis smiled at Anne before bowing and leaving the room.

Of the other three, Porthos had been Aramis' best friend. They had the closest relationship and likewise with D'Artagnan and Athos. Athos had guided the youngest Musketeer more than the others and the four of them had become the greatest Musketeers of all time.

Aramis kept his old uniform in his quarters and took it out from time to time, ran his fingers along the intricate designs, reminded himself of the many missions he'd been on with his brothers and the times when the patterns were scratched and marred by swords and bullets. He was past all that now though. There was only one woman he was involved with and three quarters of the four were about to be reunited. He was content, happy.

It had taken him the first year in his new position as First Minister to make the transition from a Musketeer to the position he was in now. There would be times when he would walk to the Garrison and stand at the entrance, watch D'Artagnan training the young cadets and wondered whether he had made the right decision. He knew in his heart he had but being a Musketeer had been what he lived for. Then, at those times, he remembered that just before he left, Athos had reminded him that he would always be a musketeer at heart, just not as an occupation. Aramis had held onto that belief and he knew D'Artagnan welcomed him at the Garrison whenever he wanted to make an appearance. He was glad he still had one of the other three residing near him, involved in his life. He would have felt totally alone, if after all the years he'd spent with his brothers, they all left and he was the only one still in Paris.

He would be visiting the Garrison more often now though. Now that Luc, the boy he had practically fathered for four years, was a cadet. He was grateful to the Captain for thinking of the boy. During Aramis' time at the monastery, Luc had always been headstrong and a born leader. D'Artagnan had obviously seen these qualities and had acted upon them. Aramis was always fond of the young cadet, no matter how much he got on the ex Musketeer's nerves.

 

_Four days later_

Aramis woke, knowing what today was and who would be coming. He had cancelled all of his meetings and visits today. Today was devoted to the friend he had not seen for years. The Queen knew of this and agreed with Aramis that that was what he should do. Aramis would greet Porthos at the palace and then take him to the Queen before the two of them headed off to the Garrison to see D'Artagnan. Aramis had been anticipating this day for three years. The last words he had uttered to the General before he left were: "You'll be back." And he had been right. They were going to be reunited at last.


	4. Return of the General

Aramis stood at the palace gates, a broad smile on his face. He heard the thudding sound of hooves and sure enough, a minute later, a large, strong man came cantering into view. Porthos Du Vallon had arrived at the palace. Finally.

Aramis grinned and walked over to him as his friend slowed the horse down. A servant also met them and once Porthos had dismounted, took the horse to the stables.

The two friends embraced, joy written on both of thier faces. He was here. He was back.

But once they seperated, Aramis realised something was wrong. Porthos was wincing, hurting. He drew his hand away and saw blood. Face full of worry, he turned to his friend.

"Was attacked, on the road, only ten minutes from Paris. No idea who they were. Might need your expertise here." Aramis, supporting Porthos, brought him inside. "By the way, you suit that," Porthos grumbled pointing to Aramis' fancy attire now that he had taken a more senior position. Aramis laughed softly. Trust Porthos to make light of a dark situation. But he couldn't relax yet. Not while his brother was injured. Aramis, who had been the medic of the four, was out of practice. Three years of not having to remove bullets and stitch battle wounds had left him rusty. He couldn’t trust himself to do a perfect job on his brother. He would take Porthos to the physician.

He would have to inform the Queen that Porthos would meet her later than planned so Aramis put the General in the care of two guards and instructed them where to go. The Minister would hurry to the Queen then back to the wounded soldier. He’d not seen his friend in a long long time. He was going to be there before he was going to be anywhere else.

He walked swiftly to the queen’squarters and knocked the door before entering. Anne turned around, confused.

"Aramis? Is something wrong? I'd been told Porthos had arrived. Where is he?"

"Porthos was injured, Majesty, shortly before his arrival. I don't know who it was, and neither does he. But I'll find out. I just came to say that he will have to meet later."

"Yes of course. Tell him to take all the time he needs." Aramis nodded and left, making his way to Charles Michel, the physicians room. Michel was in the middle of stitching up Porthos' back, right in the same place Aramis observed, where Porthos had been stabbed in the foursomes first encounter with Emile Bonnaire, the slippery tradesman who had given them a run for thier money on more than one occasion.

Michel was soon done and let Aramis in so he could be there when his friend came round.

Fifteen minutes later, Porthos woke and groaned.

"It's done?"

"It's done. Come on. The Queen is waiting." Aramis had sent a servant with word to the Queen to let her know they were on their way. Porthos, with the help of his friend, got off the wooden table he had been lying on and put his uniform back on.

The two comrades made their way to where the Queen was waiting. They didn't talk much. Porthos was hurting and they were better to save the catch up until they were with D'Artagnan. Aramis was itching to hear what had happened over the last three years. Porthos definetely would have some stories from the battlefield. It was his second time round, but from the reports Aramis had been receiving, there had been victories but there had also been heavy losses.

Once they were before the Queen, they bowed, Porthos still slightly wincing.

"Porthos. How good it is to see you again. I heard you were attacked. Are you OK?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. It's not that bad." Anne smiled, relieved. Anne and Porthos talked for a little longer, Aramis very much on the sidelines. Once they were finished, they bowed again and exited the room, next going to the place where thier friend was anticipating thier arrival.

They got to the Garrison entrance. Porthos looked around. Aramis could see his eyes sparkling, tears appearing.

"There were times when I thought I would never see this place again," he said solemnly.

"No, I always knew you would make it. I had complete faith in you," Aramis replied.

"As did I," said a voice and D'Artagnan came into view. Porthos' smile was so huge it made the Minister smile too. Porthos and D'Artagnan embraced and the three of them stepped properly inside the Garrison. Porthos, looking around again, laughed softly. Aramis frowned.

"Well," said the General. "At least this place looks better than when I left it." Aramis nodded, agreeing, as did D'Artagnan. The three friends made thier way up to the Captain's office, passing Luc on the way. He and Aramis exchanged a nod and Porthos looked at him, realising who he was. He put a hand on Luc's shoulder. The cadet looked up at the former Musketeer.

"How are you?" He asked.

"Good," Luc replied.

"How is that girl who liked me, Marie?" Luc smiled.

"She's good. They're all good." Porthos nodded and continued to make his way up the steps behind his brothers.

“Back to training Luc,” D’Artagnan told the young recruit. “I know Pierre’s been itching for a sword fight with you.” The boy scampered away.

Aramis contemplated, remembering the time he spent with those children. Four years some of them had been in his care. Four years. It’s a long time. Once in the office, D'Artagnan took his usual seat and Aramis drew up another one for Porthos.

“So,” D’Artagnan said. “How are you?”

"Where do I start?" Porthos said. "It's as crazy, strange, terrifying, nail biting, sobering and exhausting as it was the last time," he said, evidently the last six words being thrown towards D'Artagnan. "We've had more victories than losses, but when we do fail we fail badly. We were back in Alsace. That, again was a disaster." Aramis saw Porthos visibly shudder when he mentioned the name. He knew last time they were there, Porthos was captured and rescued by Athos and D'Artagnan. Aramis put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder, comforting him. The three talked for longer, but never quite managing to get that ease and flow of conversation that had always been present in the days of the foursome.

Aramis had set Porthos up with rooms in the palace, in fact, the ones right next to him.

Aramis was woken up during the night to anguished screams coming from next door. He hastily put some clothes on and walked swiftly through. Porthos was thrashing about, screaming.

"Porthos look at me," Aramis shouted, shaking his friend. After a while, Porthos finally came round. "You were crying out in your sleep."

"Not again,” he growled in frustration. “I'm sorry 'Mis."

"Don't worry. You’ve done it for me enough times. I'm here, OK? I'm not leaving your side tonight. Sleep now, buddy. Sleep." After staying there a while, where Porthos had been silent, Aramis drifted off in the armchair in the corner of the room.

In the morning there was a knock on the door.

"Minister Aramis, are you in there? I looked in your rooms but you weren't there." Aramis opened the door to find a servant there.

"Captain D'Artagnan has asked for you and General Du Vallon to meet him at the Garrison as a matter of urgency." Aramis thanked the servant and he left. The Minister helped Porthos get dressed and the two started the short journey to the Garrison.


	5. Then There Was Four

D'Artagnan had a taught, worried expression written on his face. Aramis and Porthos glanced at each other. It hadn’t been long since they had been with the Captain. What could have gone wrong in that short space of time? D’Artagnan has to explain. He was evidently relieved when he saw the two approaching. He placed a hand on thier shoulders and guided them into a corner.

"Listen to me. Athos is here." He saw the hope lift on Aramis and Porthos' faces, but he held up a hand and shook his head. Aramis' face fell, sensing it wasn't good news. "He’s in the office. I- I'll let him explain." D'Artagnan led the two up to his office. He was pale and nervous. This wasn’t the D’Artagnan Aramis had seen earlier that day. One thing was clear though, Athos was in trouble.

The man himself sat at the table, head in hands, in despair. He looked up when he heard footsteps and saw Aramis and Porthos. He looked older, greyer and a little worse for wear.

They all embraced, solemnly. D'Artagnan and Porthos sat at one side of the table and Athos and Aramis took seats at the other side. The Minister turned to his friend, deciding to get straight to the purpose of his friends’ visit instead of talking about stuff Athos would much rather skip over.

 

"What's going on? It's not good. We'll do whatever we can." Athos turned to face Aramis and looked him straight in the eye. They were bloodshot, haunted. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He probably hadn’t, knowing Athos.

 

"It's Grimaud," the former Captain said. Aramis frowned. He knew Grimaud had haunted Athos more than the others but Grimaud was dead. He had been for three years. Was Athos having hallucinations? Memories of time gone by that wouldn’t leave him alone? And where was Sylvie? His loving wife?

"Athos, Grimaud's gone," Porthos said. Athos dismissed his statement with a wave.

"No not Lucien. It Georges Grimaud. Lucien's brother." A deathly silence fell upon the room. No one spoke and let Athos continue. "Juliette had twins. She disowned Georges and only kept Lucien. Georges grew up alone. Whilst Lucien was in the care of Theresa, Georges had no-one. He knows what happened to his brother. He knows it was us and now he's come to take revenge. He," Athos faltered here. Aramis squeezed his arm as reassurance, keen to here the end of this. "He has Sylvie. He won't let her go until the four of us go and do as he asks. Please Aramis, Porthos, D'Artagnan. You have to do this for me." Aramis was stunned. Grimaud had a brother, a twin. Who now had Sylvie. Athos' wife. When he still wrote to them he told them they got married. They had also had a child.

"Athos," Aramis said. "Where's Hubert?" They had named the boy after Sylvie's late father.

"I brought him with me."

"Constance has him," D'Artagnan intervened. Aramis nodded, knowing the Captain's wife would look after the boy. Aramis knew what it was like to have a son in danger after all.

"So, Grimaud's brother. What exactly does he want us to do?" Porthos asked.

"He wants the four of us to deliver ourselves to him. Only if we do that will he release Sylvie. We can't attack. We need to do this straight. If he’s anything like Lucien, he’ll have no qualms about ending her life. I need this to be played by the book.” Aramis could see tension in Porthos' face and worry in D'Artagnan's.

"Of course I will," Aramis said.

"Yes, I will," D'Artagnan agreed. All eyes turned to Porthos.

"Only if it doesn't become a situation where I die. What the hell? I've been near death for years. Why would today be any different. Go for it." Athos was relieved he had his friends by his side. He knew coming back to the Garrison would be right. He knew his brothers would be understanding. Plus, they’d been at his side through thier previous dealings with Grimaud. They knew what he was capable of like no-body else could. And Athos couldn’t do this alone.

"Georges' house is only half a day's ride."

"We'll leave in the morning," Aramis said. "I'll inform the Queen. Athos, you'd better come with me." The Inseparables left the Garrison and headed back to the palace. D'Artagnan was left, contemplating. Constance saw him and comforted him.

“It will be OK,” she said.

“Yeah I know,” he replied softly.

“The four of you, back together again.”

“But for how long this time?” Mused the Captain.

 

 

"Why did you stop writing?" Aramis asked Athos.

"We'd all moved on and I just didn't know what to say."

"Fair enough," Aramis thought. The three of them made thier way to the Queen's quarters. Aramis knocked and entered, the others in tow. Anne gasped when she saw Athos. The three bowed.

"Athos. No one informed me of your arrival."

"I only came to the Garrison, Majesty. My wife, Sylvie has been kidnapped."

"Oh." She was shocked. She turned to Aramis, her most trusted advisor.

"Do you remember Lucien Grimaud, the man we defeated three years ago, when Louis died?"

"Of course. How could I forget?"

"Well the name of Sylvie's captor is Georges Grimaud. Lucien's brother." Anne's eyes widened. "The four of us are going tomorrow to deal with him."

"Very well. Ensure the safe return of Sylvie and the downfall of Grimaud. Please all of you return safely. Good luck." The Inseparables bowed and exited the room. Aramis had Athos a room prepared so they were all in consecutive rooms. Aramis hoped Porthos would sleep tonight. All of them would need it for what was to come the following day.


	6. The Brother

The following day Aramis met Porthos. The General had slept better that night. Aramis, however, hadn’t. He’d stayed up out of worry more than anything else, listening out for his friends screams of anguish and pain. But he’d heard none. And for that he was grateful. The dreams clearly didn’t appear all the time then. Just when Porthos thought too much. Aramis knew that well enough. The nightmares from Savoy still occurred from time to time.

 

They shortly met Athos who was grumpy as he always was in the mornings and they made thier way down to the Garrison. Aramis smirked. The three of them, like the good old days. Yet the reason they were reunited wasn’t a cause for celebration. It was anything but. He’d be going on his first mission for three years. He felt giddy. Excited. Nervous. Adrenaline pumped around his body, taking over any other sensation. Athos. Porthos. Aramis. D’Artagnan. Together once more.

 

When they arrived, all three were surprised to see thier horses saddled, weapons displayed and food prepared. Aramis glanced at D'Artagnan.

"You've been busy."

"Yeah, well, most of it was Luc. Said he wanted to help." Aramis gave his old charge a small smile. Athos then recognised the boy. He nodded and Luc returned it.

“I’m too young to go on a mission,” Luc said. “Captain D’Artagnan said. I wanted to do something to help you. To be involved.”

“Now Luc,” Aramis replied gently, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “How many times did I tell you that good things will happen if you let them occur naturally? You can’t force everything to go your way.”

“You always had the best advice.”

“I do try.”

“Right young cadet,” D’Artagnan intervened. “Off with you. Madame D’Artagnan needs help in the armoury.”

“Yes Captain.” Luc left.

“Come. Breakfast has been made. And we should eat. We have a long day ahead of us.” D’Artagnan waved them over to thier old table. But one look at Athos and Aramis knew they couldn’t dally long. Sylvie was in trouble. And Athos’ wife came before anyone else with the exception of thier child.

 

Once they were fed and watered, Athos, Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan mounted thier steeds and set off on the rescue mission. Luc watched them go, agonisingly wanting to join them. But he knew as per his old mentor’s advice that if he waited, he would earn.

 

Athos wasn't talking to them at all. Concern for Sylvie overwhelmed his mind. They had to get there as soon as they could. It was already agonising being away from Hubert as he hadn’t ever been before.

Aramis slowed up and stayed with him, letting the others ride on ahead. Athos glanced at him before turning his eyes back to the road ahead again.

"We'll get her back Athos. I promise. We will do it." Athos didn't say anything but thier eyes met and they, without having to utter a word, understood one another. That was so special about the four of them. They had a bond nobody else could understand.

They rode on, Aramis and Athos catching up with Porthos and D'Artagnan. Athos guiding them on where to go, they made it to the house in no time at all. That made Aramis uneasy. He kind of wished it would take a bit longer. But Athos wished them to travel quickly and that they did.

It was a large house. They all dismounted and tethered thier horses up. Athos knocked hesitantly on the door. A man with a gun appeared from the other side.

"Athos, I see you've returned. Tell me thier names."

"Aramis, First Minister of France."

"Oh yes. We know you."

"Porthos, General of the Army."

"Hmmm."

"And D'Artagnan, Captain of the Musketeers." Having has confirmation, the man gestured with the gun.

"In." The man lead the four men into the house and up the stairs and another appeared behind them, jabbing Porthos, who was the last one, with his gun.

The four of them werestood in a line once they reached the main hall. More men materialised out of nowhere and soon two of Grimaud's men flanked each Musketeer. He was obviously a powerful man. Perhaps even on the same level as his twin.

Then the man himself entered the room. And you could tell straightaway that he was Lucien's brother. They looked almost identical. It made sense, what with them being born within ten minutes of one another.

He went along the line looking each one up and down distastefully. Yes, they both had the same demeanour and attitude as well.

"Weapons. Take them off,” Grimaud barked. Aramis turned to Athos and saw D'Artagnan doing the same. Athos knew the man better than they did and they still saw him as thier de facto leader. Athos slightly nodded and they all reluctantly got rid of thier swords and pistols.

"Now tie them. With the chains,” Georges commanded his guards. One man held onto Aramis whilst the other encased his wrists in chains behind his back. After being chained, Athos was torn away from the group and shepherded into a corner. The other three stifled cries of protest. But how much danger would they place Athos in if they opened their mouths? They kept them shut.

"Now,” Grimaud growled. “How this is going to work is this. One of you remain here as our prisoner. The others will join Athos in what he will have to accomplish to get the prisoners back. Decide amongst yourselves now." This man knew what he was doing. He knew keeping one of the four here as leverage would ensure the others would do exactly what he asked of them.

"I'll stay," Aramis said firmly. He would sacrifice himself before his brothers any day.

"Aramis, you are First Minister of France. The Queen's right hand man. You'd be useful," Athos replied.

"No. I'm staying." Athos nodded knowing that once his friend made up his mind there was no changing it. Porthos and D'Artagnan were manhandled over to where Athos was standing. Georges stood in front of Aramis.

"You'll regret this, you know. I'll make sure you do." Aramis kept his head high and his eyes away from his captor. "Take him away." Two guards with a firm grip and another pressing a pistol into his back dragged him away from his friends. He got one last longing look before the door was slammed behind him. He didn’t know if he would see them again. To only be so briefly reunited and ripped away from them that quickly? It was hard.

He was taken down a couple of flights of stairs, down to a dank, dark cellar. They pushed him in and forced him to sit down. They brought out another set of chains and locked his ankles together then gagged him before leaving the cellar and locking the door behind them. The silence was deafening. Aramis felt totally alone. But he knew he had made the right decision. Well, he thought he was alone, until he heard a voice.

"Hello?" The person said weakly. "Athos?"

Aramis' eyes widened. He knew who this was. Sylvie. His heart lifted. He attempted to make a noise through his gag and it caught her attention. He heard her feeling around in the dark to make contact with another human being. Aramis would help but he was completely immobilised. He soon felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Athos? Please say that's you."

"It's Aramis," he said muffled. He didn't think Sylvie could make him out. She started feeling for the gag and soon as she had a fistful of it, she ripped it off.

"Athos?" She said again hopefully.

"It's Aramis," came her reply.

"Aramis? Oh my God. Are you OK? You're chained up. Where's Athos? What's happening? It's Grimaud's brother doing this. Where's the others? Why are you alone here? Oh God. Is Hubert OK?"

"Sylvie, calm down. I'll tell you everything I know. Hubert is fine. Constance is looking after him at the Garrison." He heard her breathe heavily in relief at this. "Athos came to the Garrison and asked the three of us to come here with him. Georges wants revenge on the four of us for killing Lucien. He took you to get Athos to get all the rest of us. We were brought in. Georges asked for one of us to come here. He didn't give Athos the option though. So I volunteered. Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan are doing something for him, which will in the end, get me and you out of here. That's all I know."

"OK. What is it the others are doing for him?"

"Honestly, I have no idea."

"Right. So we just wait it out," she said sadly.

"Yeah," Aramis replied half heartedly.


	7. Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Hope you’re enjoying the story. Having fun writing it. Thanks for the kudos and comments. Becca x

Whilst Aramis and Sylvie were stuck in the cellar, Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan were still upstairs with Georges. Porthos was angry. With Aramis for putting himself in even more danger. And more with himself, for not volunteering first. Aramis could get hurt, die, and there was nothing he could do about it. He growled. Trust Aramis to be the sacrificial lamb. But now he had to focus on how he was going to get him out and home again.

 

Athos was anxious. Sylvie was lost to him and now Aramis had gone the same way. Hopefully they were together. Well, that was if Sylvie was still here. He hated having to ask his brothers to do this, but he didn’t have a choice. He knew they could handle it. He knew they would. Grimaud has threatened his wife and his child. He couldn’t do nothing. Push through. Keep pushing through. And hope the outcome is a better one.

“Oi,” came a growl. Grimaud stood practically nose to nose with him. “Are you listening? Do you want your wife and friend back?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m just about to explain how you go about doing that. Listen. Or your wife’s dead.” Grimaud stepped away and addressed the three of them.

“I have a list of people I need dead. Traitors, scum, parasites.”

“Do it yourself then,” Porthos sighed.

“I don’t want to get caught. I’d much rather three murdering Musketeers lost thier heads than I did.”

“Coward,” d’Artagnan spat.

“Not quite. I just have a lot of work to do to better France. Finish what my brother started.”

“Your brother died. As will you,” Porthos continued.

“Not yet. Now, you will do as I order you to. Remember I have leverage. The First Minister of France will die if you disobey, that I can guarantee. You will not be alone. You will not escape. My men will be with you at all times, enough to outnumber you. They will hold your weapons until you need them and when using them will have you under watch. There are six men on my list. You'll take two men each and go on separate journeys. You will not be in contact with one another. My men have freedom to kill you outright if you so much as step out of line so don’t even try. I will know if you do not complete your orders. You will. Otherwise, Sylvie and Aramis will die." Porthos was fuming. D’Artagnan was trying to slow his breathing because he was that angry. Athos was expressionless. He’d known what was to come longer than they had.

Grimaud had created the perfect situation. Don’t do it and thier friends will die. Do, and they murder in cold blood. Do, and be caught and hung. There were so many things that could and no doubt would go wrong.

 

Grimaud addressed his men. "Gag them and take them down to the cellar with thier friends for the night. They'll go in the morning. And, get Aramis up here. I want to talk to him." The guards grabbed the Musketeers and shovedthem down the stairs and into the cellar.

Sylvie heard the key rattle in the door and quickly wrapped the gag around Aramis' mouth again so as not to arouse suspicion. They didn’t want to make anything worse for themselves or anything that could hinder the others. The three were bundled in. Sylvie and Athos set eyes on each other and ran towards each other. Sylvie wrapped her arms around her husbands neck, but Athos could not return it as he was still chained. He rested his head on her neck. She didn’t look hurt. He was relieved. But the guards hadn’t left yet.

 

"You," said a guard, signalling to Aramis. "Get up." He struggled to stand and in the end was wrenched from the ground and was separated from his brothers yet again. The guards slammed and locked the door once the Minister was out. He was pulled harshly up the stairs and forced onto his knees when he was in front of Grimaud. The gag was removed.

"Stand up," Grimaud instructed.

“What do you want?” Aramis bit out.

“Just shut up and do what you are told.” The Minister did as he asked. Reluctantly. Grimaud started circling Aramis, who was watching him warily. He did not trust him whatsoever.

 

Grimaud stood in front of him and Aramis saw a fist flying towards his gut before it made impact. He stumbled backwards and toppled over, having no hands to support him. He fell to the ground again. But he didn’t care. Grimaud was going to have to do better than that if he wanted to humiliate him. 

"Pathetic," Grimaud laughed. Aramis felt anger as he stood up again. But he had to resist thrashing out, for the four people still downstairs.

"No wonder my brother found it so easy to capture you. You would do anything for the Spanish Queen whore. I don't know what she sees in you. You're nothing more than her lapdog." Aramis, who had become more angry with each word, finally burst when the Queen’s name was mentioned. The criminal could insult him all he wanted, but he wouldn’t let a slight to her to without a fight.

"Say that again?" He shouted, advancing towards Grimaud, nostrils flaring, eyes wide with fire. Two guards positioned themselves behind the Minister, willing to step in if need be.

"You think you're strong, do you?" Grimaud taunted, knowing full well he was aggravating Aramis. "The Queen doesn't need you. Athos doesn't need you. France doesn't need you. You're alone. Friendless. Poor Aramis, pining to the Queen in desperation." This was the moment Aramis lost it. He head butted Grimaud before being brought down by the men. They kicked him in a frenzy.

When the men were done, finally, Aramis was feeling dizzy and faint. His face was bloody and fatigue was taking over. Everything hurt as the gag was wrapped tighter around his mouth than before. He was breathing through his nose and blood had crusted over one nostril. It wasn’t easy. Grimaud crouched down right beside him.

"Don't think this is over, Minister. I told you you'd regret volunteering to stay. You will. I'm going to make your life a living hell. Get him out of here." The guards pulled a limp Aramis down the stairs and into the cellar. He was too dreary to notice the pain of being bumped down stair after stair. The guards left him lying there.

"Make sure none of you end up like him," they sneered and left. They knew full well the Musketeers and Sylvie wouldn't be able to see the full extent of Aramis' injuries as it was dark in the room but what they had said would thoroughly worry all of them. They locked the door. Porthos heard them laughing as they walked up the stairs. Sylvie, who was the only one with free hands found the body of the Minister. She pulled the gag free. Aramis took a huge breath when his mouth was freed. He was conscious. That was a good thing. She felt something sticky on her fingers. She instantly knew what it was.

"He's bleeding, but he's alive,” she confirmed.

"'Mis?" Porthos said amongst the blackness. Sylvie had removed all of thier gags. "Can you hear me 'Mis? Aramis! Aramis!" Sylvie shook him slightly, trying to get a response.

"Aramis, come on," she said, her voice dripping with fear and worry. She slapped his cheek lightly. Finally she heard a groan coming from the Minister. "He's awake. Thank God." She propped Aramis up and leaned him against the wall. His head lolled to one side but he was breathing fine.

"What happened?" Aramis asked.

"We don't know but it looks like you've got beat up pretty bad, brother," Athos said.

"Oh yeah, now I remember. He is dead. You know what he called the Queen? A Spanish whore. The next time I lay eyes on him...” Aramis was shouting as the volume of his voice increased. Sylvie clamped a hand over his mouth in the end to quiet him, slightly tempted to put the gag back on.

"Aramis, you need to calm down. I know you're upset, I know you're angry. But this isn't going to do any of us any favours if you start shouting for all the world to hear," Athos said. “Especially Grimaud.”

Aramis sighed, still wincing from the pain. Sylvie removed her hand.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

Aramis thought back to Georges' words.

"No wonder my brother found it so easy to capture you."

Aramis knew what he was referring to. Three years ago, Grimaud had written to Anne pretending to be her brother, the King of Spain. That had ended up in Aramis' imprisonment under the wrath of Lucien Grimaud leading to a failed escape and having to get the other three to rescue him. The aftermath of that was an altercation between himself and Treville. And that was right before his predecessor died. They made up, but it still haunted Aramis. He hated fighting with the old Captain. Now he could move on and make sure that he did whatever he could to keep Treville's memory alive. And that meant defeating Georges Grimaud.


	8. A Game Of Cat And Mouse

As the night drew darker, Aramis felt better. He still hurt, but it was bearable.

"How you doing now 'Mis?" Porthos asked his friend, his tone laced with concern.

"Fine. I'm fine. Enough about me. I’m staying here. What is it Grimaud wants the three of you to do?"

"He's got a list of people he wants us to kill. The thing is, we're not going to be together. They're splitting the three of us up. We’re going in three different directions,” D'Artagnan said.

"This man is smart. He knows keeping us apart means we can't plan to escape or rescue you. Aramis, swap places with either D'Artagnan or Porthos. Please. I’m begging you. He's already beat you up. We can't leave you here. You are the most powerful man in France. You can't risk it," Athos remarked.

"I'm staying," Aramis groaned. "For the last time. I'm staying."

“Fine.”

D'Artagnan was worried. He would gladly swap places with the Minister but one thing about Aramis was that he could be stubborn. Once his mind was set there was no changing it, especially when it came to risking his own life before others. They talked all night. Anything to distract them from what was to come.

 

Night became morning. Light was seeping in through the window. Sylvie took this opportunity to check on Aramis.

"Oh God. It's worse than I thought."

"Sylvie, relax. It's just the blood that makes it look bad. I'm OK. Really."

Guards flooded the cellar and dragged all four, including Aramis, up the stairs to the main hall where Grimaud was. Sylvie stayed downstairs.

Two men held Aramis. One held a knife to his throat and the other had a pistol pressing into his head. D'Artagnan's face was etched with worry. Aramis stayed silent and stared at the opposite wall like he was trying to forget a loaded gun was pointed at his head. Grimaud took another gun and shoved it to his ribs.

"Remember, Musketeers, he is under my custody and I will not hesitate to kill him if I have to. You better behave. Or he gets it.” He ordered his men. “You two take D'Artagnan. You two with Porthos and you two with the bastard who killed my brother. I will get daily reports. Do not fail me. Or him,” he added, jabbing Aramis’ side. The other three were unchained, and with one guard gripping onto each of them, they left. The men, jostling Aramis between them, followed.

D'Artagnan got onto his horse, a guard behind him and another one in front. They rode off. Five minutes later, Porthos and his escorts rode in a different direction and likewise Athos and his guards in a third direction. Grimaud looked at Aramis and smirked.

"Bring him inside. Clean him up. Gag him again. Keep him chained. I don't trust him. Take him back down with the girl after. I'm not finished with him though. I'll get him back up here later. Carry on from yesterday." Grimaud snarled the last words in Aramis' ear. The Musketeer was taken into a bathroom. The guards washed away the blood from his face with a scratchy rag which didn’t help with the pain. They tied a new gag around his mouth, putting more knots in it. They knew full well Sylvie had untied it last time and would do so again. Why even bother then? Show of power, he guessed. He was led back down to the cellar, but was shocked to find the door swinging wide open. Aramis knew what this meant. Sylvie had escaped. He smiled from under the cloth that was wound round his mouth. But he soon realised Grimaud had posted guards at all the doors which meant she was still inside the house. But she wasn’t here. And she was trying. Athos would be proud of his wife.

"What do we do?" One guard asked dumbly.

"Inform Georges. Bring the Musketeer with us. Maybe he knows where she went."

"How could he though? He was up there all morning."

"Yes but they had all night to make a plan, didn't they?" The second guard was clearly more intelligent than the first. They took Aramis back up the stairs. Grimaud stood there confused.

"I thought I told you to take him back down."

"The girl's escaped. He might know where she is," the guard said.

"How did she get out?" Grimaud demanded of his men. Aramis was watching the whole thing, slightly amused. He let out a small laugh through the gag. Georges rounded on him and pressed his gun to Aramis' forehead.

"You think this is funny, Musketeer? You know where she is?" He ripped off the gag, scratching Aramis' face as he went. His face was getting a lot of abuse. He didn’t like that “What's so funny?" Grimaud snapped. Aramis was still chuckling.

"You were outwitted by a girl. You're not that smart, are you Grimaud?" This earned Aramis a slap to the face.

"Keep your mouth shut. But maybe she'll come out if she thinks her friend is going to die in her place," Grimaud said directly to the Musketeer.

"No, she won't. She's not afraid of death. And, incidentally, neither am I." Grimaud and another man got hold of the Musketeer. Grimaud kept his pistol to Aramis' head. "Move!" The Minister was shoved forwards, still laughing. His laughter made them treat him harsher, but he didn’t care.

Grimaud took him into every room, shouting the same thing every time.

"If you're in here, come out! Otherwise Aramis dies." And Aramis would shout the same thing every time in return.

"Sylvie, don't. Trust me. Stay hidden." Aramis would always get a jab of the pistol every time he said that, but he didn't care. The girl was smart. She wouldn't reveal herself. And Grimaud wouldn't kill Aramis. He and Sylvie were both too valuable. He needed his enemies dead. Sylvie and Grimaud were playing a game of cat and mouse. A game that Aramis liked.

But it would be short lived. He saw something move between the clothes in the open wardrobe. Unfortunately, so had Grimaud. It would have been an involuntary move, one that Sylvie won't even have realised she had made. The other man who had a hold of Aramis advanced towards the wardrobe, leaving the Minister with Grimaud and a pistol to his head.

"We know you're here. So come out and both of you live. Aramis is here, with a loaded gun pointed at him. Would you risk his life to save your own? Come out and you both live." More men had entered the room and again Aramis had two men with him. He probably would have been able to wrench himself free of Grimaud's grip, but not now that there were more. One of them gagged him again.

Sylvie emerged from the wardrobe. Aramis sighed and bowed his head before looking at her.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed. A man advanced towards her with rope but Grimaud stopped him. Aramis was confused. Surely he would tie her up after that?

"No. When he pays for her mistakes, she can be the one to tend to him. Remind him it was her fault he got hurt. Not now though. We'll make them wait and anticipate. Take them down but have a guard at the door. Oh and girl, if you even think about taking his gag off, he'll pay for it even harder." Sylvie, accompanied by two guards and Aramis, now having been transferred from Grimaud to another were dragged back down and chucked in the cellar. One man stood at the door, facing the opposite way. When Sylvie made sure he wasn't looking, she freed Aramis' mouth.

"How did they find me?"

"You moved accidentally. Nice try though. It was worth it."

"Not for you. You're getting punished because of me. And where are the others?"

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. And the others rode off with the guards. Sylvie, this has only just begun."


	9. Doing Another’s Bidding

Athos had reached his first destination. He hated what Grimaud instructed him to do but he had to. Sylvie and Aramis were at his mercy. His wife, the woman he loved more than anything and one of his best, oldest friends were in danger. He had to do this. For both of them. He felt so awfully guilty about leaving Aramis, the First Minister of France, of all people, in the hands of who he could consider to be his number one enemy right now. But realistically, what choice did he have? If Aramis hadn’t volunteered, then Porthos or d’Artagnan would be in his position and Athos would be feeling exactly the same as he was now. He hated bringing his friends into this in the first place but like he had said to them back at the Garrison, it had to be played by the book. His wife’s life and that of his son were in danger.

 

He wondered how Porthos and D'Artagnan were faring with thier men. He supposed Porthos would be constantly talking and trying to annoy his guards as much as possible. Talking about anything but what lay ahead of him. And no doubt d’Artagnan would be travelling in shame. Feeling bad for Aramis and Sylvie and guilty he didn’t volunteer quickly enough. But he knew his protege. He knew that d’Artagnan would use any means necessary to ensure the safe return of his friends. He would persevere out of self sacrifice. Even if that meant killing no doubt innocent men in cold blood.

 

The first man Athos had been told to dispatch was a moneylender by the name of Bertrand Clairmont. Clairmont. When Athos read the name he was reminded of a cadet of the same name from three years ago who died when Lucien Grimaud blew up the Garrison. A young lad. He had shown a lot of promise. And then his life had ended much too prematurely because he was fighting for what he believed was right. For that, Athos was eternally grateful.

That had been a dreadful time. But he had killed Lucien soon after. That was his recompense. Now, he was paying for it. And he wasn’t the only one.

"Oi," said one of the guards shoving Athos roughly. They’d stopped five minutes ago and as he looked around, he saw he was the only one of the trio to not have dismounted. He was too caught up in his thoughts. The Musketeer turned round.

"What?"

“Get down.” Athos slid off his horse’s back. “By the book. When we give you this weapon, you will kill Clairmont and then hand it back to us. You don't, you will watch your friend die. Then your wife. Then you. Got it?"

"Yes." The man sullenly handed Athos his gun and one of them accompanied him inside. The other stood guard outside, keeping lookout for any suspicious people coming past the house.

The man who was to die was sitting behind his desk, shuffling through some papers. He recognised Athos as soon as he saw him. Athos stood there gaping. He had the same look as his son. Smoke, gunfire, bombs, death, Lucien Grimaud the mirage. He snapped out of the past and back to the present.

"You! I could kill you right now," Clairmont said angrily.

"I know you’re related to him. You're his father, aren't you," he sighed. The man huffed and glared at the ex Musketeer.

"Yes, and he was killed on your watch. You were his Captain. You left him to die."

"I know. I'm sorry. We fought hard to save his life. So hard. But unfortunately not everyone can be saved,” Athos replied sadly. Clairmont approached Athos angrily. He’d come here to do a job. Lives were on the line. He reacted on instinct. He fired.

 

And it was over.

 

Athos stood back, gasping quickly. He just murdered an innocent man. God, he was going against everything he lived for, fought for. And not just to kill an innocent man, but a grieving father too? It was incomprehensible.

Then his state of shock was interrupted as he was tugged out of the room.

"Move it Musketeer! We can't be seen here.” They made it outside. One of the men stretched an arm out. “Weapons. Now." Athos handed them back his gun. They shoved him. The three of them speedily mounted thier horses and left the scene of devastation behind them.

They rode on for a few miles, until they reached an inn. They got rooms. Athos was deposited into one. They tied his wrists with rope. He looked at them.

"Really?" He asked.

"Simply precautions," the guard replied.

"Oh come on. Where do you think I'm going to go? You have my best friend and my wife hostage. Do you really think I'd risk thier lives?" They ignored his question completely.

"We'll bring you some dinner up. We leave for your second task tomorrow. It's four or five days' ride away." Athos gulped. He didn’t realise they would be so far away. Aramis and Sylvie would be under Grimaud's wrath for longer than he thought. He had to get back to them as quickly as possible. Aramis had already been beaten up pretty badly once by Lucien's brother. Athos dreaded to think what was happening to him now. The door was shut over. Athos lay back, trying to sleep.

 

Meanwhile, D'Artagnan was facing another night under his guards watch at an inn also. He still had another two days' ride to the place where his first victim was to fall. He had been more closely watched than the other two. It was common knowledge and he was sure that Lucien would have told Georges, that the Gascon was prone to easily becoming reckless and unpredictable. He had always been tied and always had a guard with him, even when he slept. Every single second, the Captain wanted to burst and go at them. But he knew what these men were capable of. He had seen the state Grimaud had put Aramis in back at the house and was certain Georges' henchmen were just as lethal. They would have learned the tricks from thier leader.

"Trust Lucien to have a brother that was exactly like him," D'Artagnan thought angrily and bitterly. "It never ends, does it?" D'Artagnan sighed. He sank onto the bed and lowered his head.

How had he got himself in this predicament? Merely days ago, he was happy, he had Constance and his new band of cadet recruits. He thought all the danger with the Inseparables was over when they parted ways, when Lucien Grimaud died. He wanted danger and excitement, he always had, but not to the extent where his loved ones died and he lived. It was happening again. He would do whatever he could to keep Aramis and Sylvie alive. Whatever it took.


	10. Would You Risk It For A Friend

Aramis and Sylvie were sitting in silence in the cellar. Sylvie had had to put the gag back on him and keep it on. The guard outside the door checked regularly and the first time he saw Aramis' mouth free, both of them took a kicking. Aramis worse but he wouldn’t let Sylvie get hurt on his mistake.

This time, when the guard came in, he wasn't alone. There were two of them. Both prisoners knew was this meant. The Minister didn’t resist. They picked Aramis up from the ground and dragged him upstairs, leaving Sylvie locked alone in the cellar. Aramis was soon standing in front of Grimaud again.

"I told you there was going to be punishment, Minister, didn't I?" He glanced at his men. "Take the chains and the gag off. Let him go. He's going to take his beating like a man."

For the first time in days, Aramis' hands and ankles were freed. He rubbed his wrists, trying to get some circulation back into them.

Grimaud was expecting him to stand and take the punches. He thought he'd become placid in his role as Minister. There were times, Aramis reminded himself, when he could be a Musketeer too. Grimaud landed the first blow to Aramis' side, but then the Musketeer started retaliating. He got a punch to Grimaud’s face, sending the man stumbling. He was getting hurt anyway. It wasn't like it would get any worse if he showed his hand. Georges recoiled and returned it too quickly than Aramis would have liked.

He signalled to his men who got hold of Aramis and held him in place.

“I thought you wanted me to take it,” Aramis smirked.

“Changed my mind. Now shut up.” Aramis quietened. Get it over and done with was his thinking. He stood still, trying to take his thoughts elsewhere as Grimaud delivered blow after blow. Aramis made a few feeble attempts to defend himself on reflex and impulse more than anything else, but the grip they had on him was too strong, even for him. Grimaud hurt him enough so he was sore and he was bleeding, but not as bad as he had last time. Grimaud came up to him and stood right in front of him. He pulled his shoulders back. He stood tall and stared him square in the face.

"Chain him again, but don't gag him,” Georges ordered. “I’ve got a plan. Tomorrow, Aramis, I'm going to give you a choice." Aramis didn't like where this was going. "Option one. Tomorrow, you duel with me. You win, Sylvie goes free and you stay here. You lose, she dies and you remain here. Option two, you don't do this and you both die. Would you risk your life for hers? Talk to her about it tonight. Tomorrow I will get you up here and you can come to me with your decision. You've got at least five days until your friends return. That's plenty of time to deal with you. Get him out of here." Aramis' hands were placed behind his back and chained up again. Chains were also put round his ankles again. He was taken away, giving Georges one last steely glare. The guards chucked Aramis back in the cellar and slammed the door in his face.

"Aramis? Is that you?" Sylvie asked.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Oh, you can actually talk this time?" Sylvie laughed. "Come here. You're bleeding."

"It's nothing compared to last time. Listen, Sylvie, I need to talk to you about something. Grimaud has given me an offer. Tomorrow I duel him. The prize if I win is your freedom. The price I pay if I lose is your death, but not my own. If I refuse we both die. I would never forgive myself if you were to die, and my friendship with Athos would be ruined. Sylvie, what do I do?"

"You have to fight him Aramis. Listen. If you win and I'm set free, that means I can go to the palace and get us help. I could talk to the Queen, or Constance and get help."

"Yeah I suppose. But that's only if I win. If I lose, you're dead."

"Then I take that chance. Do you remember, three years ago, when it was Lucien interfering. Do you remember, how, like now, he held me hostage and when the four of you came to rescue me, I was resolute? Well, it's the same situation here. Death is inevitable. It's going to happen to all of us at one point. It may just turn out that this is my time."

"But if I'm the one to make it happen? And Athos isn’t here?”

"Aramis, you have to trust yourself. Did you learn nothing from being a Musketeer? His time in the regiment is all my husband ever talks about. I know you lot inside out. Trust me. I do. You have to trust in yourself to trust others." Aramis nodded, knowing what Sylvie said was true.

"OK. I'll do it. I'll do it for you."

 

The next morning Grimaud came into the cellar with four of his men.

"So, have you made your decision?" 

"Yes. I'll fight." Grimaud smiled menacingly.

"Bring them both upstairs." Men grabbed both prisoners and escorted them upstairs. Sylvie was shepherded into a corner. One man kept a pistol on her, reminding Aramis what was at stake should he succumb to Georges' skills. Lucien had been a excellent fighter, almost a match for Athos, which was saying something. Aramis hadn't picked up a sword for years. He wasn't sure how he would handle it. It was unbecoming in his place as First Minister. Treville has sparred with the previous king at various times, but Aramis couldn’t exactly spar with a nine year old.

Then again, last time when he had parted with a weapon for the four years he spent in the monastery it hadn't taken him a massive amount of time to pick it back up. He prayed it would be the same here.

His chains were removed. He rubbed his sore wrists. One of the guards passed him a sword. There was no way of escaping. He was totally outnumbered and the door was covered with two guards. Aramis shifted the sword between his hands, trying to get a feel for it again. It hit him like a wave. All the times he'd fought and won. He could do the same again. He had motivation and determination.

"He who draws blood first wins," Grimaud said bluntly.

"Fine," Aramis replied.

Grimaud and Aramis touched swords before the Minister made the first time. He tried to jab at Georges' arm but he defended it and returned it.

Sylvie was watching on, worried for her friend. Aramis had to win this, for both thier sakes. The fight was back and forth, both men dominating at some point during it.

Then she heard a cry. Her heart leaped. Had Grimaud struck Aramis? Had the Musketeer lost?

But then she looked over. She saw Grimaud on the ground, cradling his arm, and Aramis also on the floor, a gun pointed at his head and a guard's boot placed firmly on his back. She smiled. Aramis had won as she knew he would.


	11. Aftermath

Grimaud got up off the ground, livid. Aramis was pinned tightly to the ground, three men on him. Sylvie had a gun to her head.

Both of them were defenceless and the man in charge was angry. He could change his mind, flip, at any moment. Aramis locked eyes with his friend’s wife, mouthing to her that she would be OK. But Grimaud saw him. He stamped on the First Minister’s head, sending it crashing to the floor. He signalled to his men. They brought Aramis to his feet and two of them held him whilst another chained his wrists and ankles again. Through the blood on his face and the dizziness that his captor’s boot had caused, Aramis couldn't help but grin. He'd won. He'd defeated Grimaud.

He knew Grimaud wasn't going to take this lightly. He'd punish Aramis for this. But he didn’t care. He knew the consequences of losing. And he also the repercussions if he won. But winning also brought its perks. Sylvie was free. She would go back to Paris, to the Queen and tell her what was happening. Aramis didn't care what happened to him. He'd won her her freedom. That was all that mattered at that moment.

Aramis hadn’t been paying attention. He was taken by surprise as Grimaud wrapped his hands around the Musketeer's throat. He held on tightly. Aramis struggled for breath. Grimaud eased off slightly.

"I won," Aramis spluttered. "I won fair and square. Let... Let her go." Grimaud, with one final look of complete hatred and contempt, released him. Aramis crumpled to the ground. He coughed and regained his breath.

"Get the girl a horse and let her go. Bring him. He'll want to witness it."

Aramis was manhandled over to the front door. One of the guards had saddled Sylvie a horse. She turned round to Grimaud.

"Can I speak to him? Just for a second. Alone?" Grimaud signalled to his men to let go of Aramis and they all stood outside except for Grimaud who leaned against the wall, watching the two intently. Sylvie came right up to Aramis so she could whisper in his ear.

"I'll go to the Queen. You'll be fine Aramis. I have complete faith in you. When Athos returns, tell him I love him and I'll meet him on his return to Paris."

"OK," Aramis replied. "Good luck."

"You too."

"Enough!" Said Grimaud. "Get going girl." Sylvie was escorted out of the house. She mounted the horse and rode off, leaving Aramis alone to face the wrath of Grimaud.

"Just you and me, Minister, hmm? Gag him and take him down. There's no one left for him to plot with, to talk to. He really is a prisoner now." The last words were like an icy dagger to Aramis' heart. A prisoner. For the second time by the Grimaud brothers. And he knew there were still days before the others were to return.

"Bring him some food and water. We can't have him starving, can we?" The guards took Aramis back down to the cellar and put a plate of bread and cheese in front of him, as well as a cup full of water. They unchained his wrists so he could eat and watched as he did so. When he was finished, they locked his wrists again, this time in front of him and wound the cloth around his mouth. They left, locking the door, with no guard on duty this time. He was completely incapacitated and alone.

 

Aramis began to wonder if he had made the right decision in letting Sylvie ride off to Paris. He didn’t trust Georges. Grimaud's men could still decide to ride after her and ambush her and Aramis wouldn't know as he was stuck in a cellar. She could die soon and it would be his fault for allowing her to leave. Though, if she stayed, then Grimaud would have no qualms in killing her anyway. At least this way, she had a chance.

Also, he was desperately worried about what Athos would say when he returned from doing Grimaud's mission. Aramis hadn't seen him properly in three years. He didn't know whether Athos would be the uncertain, bitter man he knew when Lucien was around or the just, loyal, courageous man he knew for the years before. Athos’ personality was extremely interchangeable. He knew Sylvie would be the first thing Athos would ask him about and the former Captain would be out of his mind when he saw his wife had gone again. No other choice, he reminded himself.

Aramis felt guilty but for one, Sylvie was going to die if he lost or refused, and two, it was the best way to get help. The Queen would listen to Sylvie, especially if it were the four Musketeers who were in trouble.

He knew it was days until Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan were back so he knew that they were days Grimaud could beat him up, kill him if he wanted. Aramis doubted the latter though. He needed his leverage to get Athos to do what he wanted.

The Minister was surprised Georges had made the move of letting Sylvie go. Perhaps he had grown bored and wanted a fight with something at stake. Maybe he thought he was going to win so Sylvie's freedom would make the Musketeer put up a good fight. Aramis was better than Lucien's brother expected though. And Aramis knew that Georges knew that he had to honour his side of the bargain and let Athos' wife free. But was the price too great?


	12. Innocence

In the days Aramis waited for the other three to complete thier tasks and return to the house, Grimaud took full advantage of the fact the Minister was the only one there. He had him dragged upstairs more than once a day to get beaten up and then cleaned up before doing it again. It became an endless cycle. Aramis didn't seem to notice it after a while and was too faint and dizzy to do anything about it. He let it happen, knowing nothing he could do would stop Georges hurting him.

The long hours he spent down in the cellar were spent in pain and in silence. He had no energy to fight back, even to think. His mind was a complete mess that even he, the calmest and most reasonable of the four, couldn't comprehend.

He had become so ill and complacent that Grimaud had even allowed him to stay unchained. He knew Aramis wasn't going to try anything. This was exactly where he wanted him.

 

Aramis knew one thing for certain, no matter how messed up his mind was. He wanted peace and space to recover. He wanted desperately to return to Paris and regain his duties. He wanted his friends back safe where he could care for them.

 

It was the fourth day after Sylvie leaving. Aramis had just taken a fresh beating and was downstairs in the cellar. Meanwhile, a man had arrived at the house, accompanied by two guards. Athos had returned after killing both of the men Grimaud wanted him to. Georges met him at the door and the two of them went inside.

"Done?" Grimaud asked.

"Done," Athos replied.

"He can wait in the cellar until the others return." A man approached Athos with chains. "No. Leave him. He can deal with the other one." Athos was lead downstairs and shown into the cellar. The door was locked and the guard left.

"Sylvie? Aramis? Sylvie! Where are you?" Athos yelled desperately. Then he heard a groan from the other side of the cellar. There was still light seeping through the windows so he could see his friend clearly. He ran over to where Aramis sat, his back against the wall, his head bent over his chest, unresponsive.

"Oh God Aramis. Sylvie!" He yelled again, frantically searching for her. "Aramis, where is she? For God's sake, wake up and tell me! What has he done with her? Is she dead? Tell me Aramis!" Athos shook his friend, trying to get him to talk.

"She left," Aramis coughed.

"Where? Where did she go?" Athos demanded.

"Paris, the Queen," Aramis whispered. "I fought Grimaud. Prize... Her freedom. I... I won. She left." Athos sighed.

"Oh, you idiot. Oh God. Aramis. You fool!" He slapped the Minister on his cheek. Aramis looked up slightly at this. "They'll have gone after her and killed her. She'll be dead. Do you realise what you've done?"

"If I refused... To fight... Grimaud would have killed her anyway. I had to chance it. She told me to." Athos' face softened slightly.

"So you would have had no choice either way."

"Mmm."

"And what's he done to you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Aramis groaned. His head thumped.

"We'll get through this my friend. Porthos and D'Artagnan should be back within the next couple of days and then we can get the hell out of here." Athos patted Aramis' shoulder and sank onto the floor next to him. He looked on at his friend, worried.

The cellar door opened again and three guards entered the room. Two got hold of Aramis and dragged him out whilst the other kept a grip on Athos who was calling desperately after his friend. Once Aramis was out of sight, the other guard released Athos and slammed the cellar door in his face.

Athos paced around the cellar. Sylvie was gone. Aramis was upstairs right now, getting punched so hard he could barely speak. And all of it was Athos' fault. In his eyes, he was to blame for all of this. Things could have been different if he never returned to the Garrison and asked for thier help, if he'd dealt with the entire thing alone.

They had taken Sylvie whilst he had been out of thier house, drinking. He had come back to find the place empty and a letter left. It only told him where to come.

When he arrived at Grimaud's dwelling place, he had been relieved of his weapons before meeting the man. He was shocked when he saw the spitting image of Lucien Grimaud standing before him. He thought he had been dreaming. Lucien was dead. There was no way a ghost took his wife hostage. Then he heard the story, that the man before him was Lucien's brother.

Georges told him if he wanted Sylvie back to go to Paris and tell the three others to come back to his house with him.

For some unknown reason he knew Porthos was returning from war and ordered an attack on him as a warning. And that was what led to the events that followed.

The door opened and two guards with Aramis propped up between them, deposited the Minister on the back wall where he had been sitting when Athos found them. The guards left. Aramis had fresh, shining, red blood dripping from his nose and a cut in his cheek. He was also cradling his arm. There was something wrong with it. Athos had a handkerchief which he used to mop up his friend's face.

"I'm sorry, old friend. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be in this predicament now."

"You... You are not... To blame," Aramis replied, shakily and barely audible.

"Don't speak. It will hurt you more. We just have to pray D'Artagnan and Porthos get here soon. We need to get you help." Men brought thier two prisoners food and water. They left them to it. Athos had to raise the cup to Aramis' lips and tip it so liquid trickled into the Musketeers' mouth. Aramis, with the help of the former Captain, took tiny bites of bread until it hurt to swallow. Athos fed himself and moved the plates to one side.

"We'll be fine," he reassured Aramis. "We'll get back to Paris soon. All will be well," said Aramis.

"No it won't."

"It won't? Why won't it?" Aramis grumbled, looking at the blank expression on Athos' face. Something wasn't right. "What did he make you do?"

"The men he made me kill... Both were grieving fathers. Clairmont and Pierre. Both cadets who died when Lucien stormed the Garrison. Both innocent. They'd done nothing wrong. This stupid world we live in."

"It's OK. You're here... Now. Safe."

"Not from the memories. The nightmares."

"Something I know all too well my friend," Aramis remarked weakly.

"We'll get through it. Somehow. We will."


	13. Suffering Makes Us Stronger

Athos was getting more and more worried about his friend. It had been two days since the former Captain had returned and Aramis continued to receive all the punches. They were the only two there. Both Porthos nor d'Artagnan weren't back yet. Why was Grimaud only targeting Aramis when he now also had the man who actually killed his brother?

Athos jolted as he worked out the answer. He knew if it was himself getting beaten up, he wouldn't have cared, he would have dealt with it. But because it was his friend, someone he was particularly close to, it was hurting him and angering him more. Someone else was being punished for something that was his fault. He would forever he indebted to Aramis. This was what Grimaud wanted. Athos realised that now.

Athos had never seen Aramis like this. When the four of them had been Musketeers together, Aramis had always been the sharpshooter of the group. He had always been alert and upbeat, always willing to do his duty and fight against people who wanted to cause him and his friends harm. Grimaud had completely taken it out of him. Lucien Grimaud hurt Athos the most out of the four. He plagued the Musketeer's memory and haunted his dreams, even after he had died. Now the same thing was happening to another of the Inseparables with Lucien's brother. Athos felt for Aramis. He knew what his brother was going through. He knew when he had Lucien on his back, he wanted to deal with him alone and didn't talk or worry his friends about it at all. He hoped Aramis would be more open than him and let the others help him. Where were D'Artagnan and Porthos? They needed to get Aramis out of here before he died.

And Sylvie. Athos worried about her. He knew Aramis had no choice but to let her go. She would have died otherwise. Both of them would. But he just prayed she was safe, that she'd got to Anne and told her of the Musketeers' capture.

 

This time when Grimaud's men came to cart Aramis upstairs, Athos tried to stop them.

"I'll do it. I'll stand there and willingly take the punches. Get Grimaud. Ask him. I'll do it. It gives him a break." One of the guards went back up the stairs whilst the other looked on the two Musketeers who were sitting at the back of the cellar. Grimaud rejoined the guard who'd went up to talk to him in the cellar.

"Nice try, but the Minister will continue to be the one taking the punishments. Nothing you can do. Get the Minister up here." Aramis was propped up between two men and escorted out as Athos looked on longingly at his friend. Aramis winced when they took his left arm, the one that had been hurting for days. It could possibly be broken, thought Athos.

Aramis was returned half an hour later, fresh cuts and bruises.

 

The cellar door opened. It was hours since Aramis' last beating. Athos gulped, knowing they were coming for his brother again. But this time a third Musketeer joined them in the cellar and they were locked in. D'Artagnan had returned. Athos breathed a huge sigh of relief. They were one step closer to getting away from Grimaud. Athos and D'Artagnan embraced but the Captain's attention soon turned to the First Minister. He looked at Athos, his face pale.

"I've only been back two days. He was almost at this stage when I returned. He gets beat up two or three times a day. I've offered to go in his place but they held me back and refused, saying that he has to go through it every time. Sylvie has hopefully returned to Paris. Aramis won her her freedom. He's deteriorating. He needs to get back to Paris and to Charles Michel as soon as he can. I'm so relieved you're back. Only Porthos and we'll be free to go." D'Artagnan nodded. He crouched down beside his injured friend.

"D'Artagnan? That... Is that you? Thank God... Thank God you're safe," Aramis whispered to his friend.

"Hey 'Mis. Yeah, it's me. We'll be back in Paris soon my friend where Luc and Michel are."

"Luc... I failed him. He... He can't see... Me like this. It... It will scare him. He thinks... I'm brave. I'm not. He... Looked up to... Me and I failed him. He'll think... This is what will happen... If he follows me."

"Aramis, you have not failed him in the slightest. He knows danger and possible deaths are part of the job. Hell, we showed him that at the monastery, when you and Porthos blew up the Spanish gunpowder. You were brave there. You are one of the bravest. You're sore and tired. Once you are well again, you will see differently." Aramis doubted D'Artagnan's words but appreciated the sentiment.

Grimaud came into the cellar. Both Athos and D'Artagnan stood in front of Aramis defensively.

"I've not come for him. This time. That will continue though."

"Why?" D'Artagnan interjected. "I'm willing to do it voluntarily. Why make him suffer more?"

"Suffering makes us stronger." A deathly silence followed those words. Athos went rigid. He felt like ice. Those same words had been uttered three years ago by Lucien Grimaud. The memories he had long since tried to bury were beginning to plague him again. He couldn't let it show or let it get to him. He had to be strong, for Aramis.

"Besides," Georges continued. "It's fun to see a man so beat he can't even resist. Knowing what you did to him made him that weak that he knows what you're going to do to him but still doesn't defend himself."

"You really are a monster aren't you?" D'Artagnan yelled.

"Stop!" Aramis said, slightly more audible than before. D'Artagnan looked behind him at the man in a heap on the ground and restrained himself from saying any more that could get him into trouble.

"Now what I really came to talk to you about, is what will happen when Porthos arrives. He is due to be here in two days' time. You will stay one more night and then ride back to Paris and live your lives again. My men know to leave you alone after that. I made a promise and I'm going to honour it."

"Honour," D'Artagnan scoffed.

"What did you say, Musketeer?"

"You, honour? You use that word in vain. We," he said pointing to himself, Athos and Aramis in turn. "We are honourable men. You should crawl back to the gutter, where you belong."

"Fine OK." Grimaud and the two men he had with him fought past the two able men and dragged the third up the stairs. "I told you anything you said or did had implications for your so called brother."

Athos and D'Artagnan were left in the locked cellar, the realisation that the Minister would be punished for his words setting into the younger one.


	14. Head Over Heart

D'Artagnan paced around the cellar in a state of absolute panic. Athos listened to him, trying to calm him down.

"Oh God, Athos, what have I done? Do you know how guilty I'm going to feel when he returns? Why did I say those stupid things? Grimaud warned me. Aramis warned me. I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. For once I should have just restrained myself, kept my temper."

"You didn't want to see him hurt. You thought you were defending him. You had no idea what Grimaud was going to do. Do you remember, the first time I met you?"

"I wanted to kill you because I thought you had murdered my father."

"I saw potential in you. Great potential. I knew work needed to be done to get you to Musketeer standard, but I always knew you were going to get there. And we worked and trained until finally it came to the duel between the Musketeers and the Red Guards. You went to the Bastille out of pure vengeance. Do you remember what I said to you training after that?"

"Head over heart."

"That's what you need to remember now. Head over heart. You didn't know on that occasion but now that you know everything you do wrong leads back to Aramis, you remember that. Head over heart. You keep your cool and know there's not long left. There is an end. Aramis shouldn't get beaten up more than usual if you control yourself, yes?"

"Yes. Yes. OK. But we have to stop them hurting him anyway. There has to be a way to get through to Grimaud."

"D'Artagnan, there's not. Believe me. This man is exactly like his brother and the four of us nearly got killed when we crossed him. There's no way we're stopping it. Two days until Porthos returns. That's one full day and half today and half the day after next. Not long. Aramis can hold onto then. Then we get him help. OK? Head over heart. Think of that and you'll make it through it."

D'Artagnan had calmed down. He had slumped down the wall and now sat beside Athos. The former Captain had always been the one to keep the Gascon reasonable, to stop him from making stupid decisions. Of the four they had the closest relationship and likewise with Aramis and Porthos.

"You know Athos, I have to tell you something."

"What?"

"It was strange. When Grimaud brought us up here the first time he told us we had to kill men."

"Yeah."

"But that didn't happen."

"What are you talking about."

"The guards just shifted me about for a few days. We moved from inn to inn, they kept me tied, kept an eye on me, but I wasn't made to kill anyone. Nothing happened." Athos looked at his friend incredulously. D'Artagnan had never lied to him in his life. He wouldn't start now. He decided not to say anything. He wanted Porthos' take on the whole thing. Wherever he was.

 

Aramis came back accompanied by the guards who this time dumped him in the middle of the floor.

"Hey!" D'Artagnan started, but got shot a warning look from Athos and became subdued. Athos wrapped an arm around Aramis' back, as did the Captain and carefully and slowly moved thier friend to the back wall. D'Artagnan kneeled down beside Aramis and gingerly put his hand on Aramis' good shoulder.

"I'm sorry my friend. I'm so sorry Aramis."

"You are not to blame."

"Yes I am. I apologise."

"Don't worry. It makes... It more unbearable. We'll be fine. We just need Porthos back." D'Artagnan knew better than to keep going on about it. He knew Aramis needed to rest as much as he could.

 

The next time Grimaud took Aramis and brought him back, Athos and D'Artagnan noticed something different. Instead of new bruises, there was a gash running across his cheek. The Musketeers looked on horrified.

"Yeah he... Cut me instead... Of beating... Beating me. Said he would leave that until tomorrow."

"Sword?" Athos asked.

"Knife yeah."

"Oh God Aramis. Why did you decide to stay?" D'Artagnan asked, with no idea what pain his friend was in. Sure Lucien had cut his face leaving a scar, sure he had got beaten up by the Red Guard when Rochefort had arrested Constance and Aramis, but never to the extent Aramis was at just now.

"Listen, even if... If it were you or Porthos who stayed, he would... Would have done the same to you. It just had to be one of us."

"I would rather it be me than you."

"I would... I would have said... The same... Had it been you."

D'Artagnan mulled this over and knew it was true. He knew he had to put his feelings aside and be strong for his brother right now. He remembered the times the Inseparables had rescued him from risky situations. The time after he had first met them when he tried to prove himself in his run in with Vadim, the time when he and the King were kidnapped by LeMaitre, the time when he pretended to kill Athos and went undercover to bring Milady and Richlieu down. It was now his turn to repay that debt.

The cut on Aramis face looked bad, thought Athos. Grimaud really was evil. Fair enough, he gave Aramis a break from the punches and kicks, but of course Lucien's brother would find another way to torture him. Georges couldn't kill Aramis but he could find many different ways to hurt him but keep him alive.

"Every time he tells me... That you three don't need me... That France... That Anne..." Aramis said sorrowfully. "He said you all wouldn't care..."

"Aramis, are you joking? Of course we care. We wouldn't be here otherwise," said D'Artagnan.

"The Queen does need you Aramis. The Dauphin needs his father," Athos said too. At mention of the Dauphin, Aramis looked up. But what the three hadn't realised was that the cellar door had been opened.

"Say that again?" Grimaud asked Athos. The three looked from one to the other, panic stricken. Surely the secret hadn't been spiller yet again? And to Georges Grimaud of all people? Aramis' heart sunk. Grimaud grabbed hold of D'Artagnan. He twisted his arm behind his back. He held a knife to his throat. D'Artagnan made no attempt to resist knowing Aramis would take the punishment worse . "Tell me. Or he dies. And trust me, it would give me pleasure to kill him."

"You won't," Athos said. Grimaud pressed the knife further to beads of blood appeared. Athos glanced at Aramis who nodded, a tear trickling down his cheek. Athos had never seen the Minister cry, but this was his son they were talking about, his family. Athos sighed deeply.

"The Dauphin is the son of the Queen and... And Aramis." Grimaud released D'Artagnan and shoved him into the wall. Grimaud laughed. He stood above the Minister who was crouched against the wall in so much pain he couldn't lift his head to look at the man. It spun and thumped. Grimaud had other ideas. He crouched down. He grabbed a fistful of Aramis' hair and yanked his head up. The Musketeer cried out in pain. D'Artagnan advanced towards Georges but one of the guards held him back. Athos was leaning against the side wall, watching the whole thing with a heavy heart.

"The Dauphin is _your_ son? How does that work?"

"The Queen and I... We had an affair behind the King's back." Grimaud scoffed. Aramis flicked his eyes away.

"I never expected that."


	15. Attempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus. I’ve been in hospital but I’m home now

"Did my brother know?" Grimaud asked the Musketeers.

"Not that we know of," D'Artagnan replied, the guard still having a grip on him incase he flew for Grimaud. There was no way Lucien could have found out. No way.

Aramis was defeated. Grimaud knew everything now.He kept his head down and limp. There was nothing he could do. He’d failed Anne. He’d failed the Dauphin. He wasn’t a good enough father. Aramis was scared about what his captor was going to do with his new information. He would use it, but how? Would he go to Paris and tell the council so they, as Rochefort had done roughly eight years before, could have both of them arrested? Aramis killed? Louis kidnapped? Grimaud saw the worried expression written on Aramis' face.

"Don't worry. I won't spill... Yet. Get him." The guards took Aramis after Grimaud. Athos and D'Artagnan were alone again.

The guards dumped Aramis in front of Grimaud. His head might have been a mess over the last few days, but right now it was as clear as crystal. All he could think about was his son, and how much danger he might be in. Grimaud knelt down beside Aramis who couldn't move at all. He removed something long and shiny from underneath his cloak. His knife. The one he had used to cut Aramis' face before.

"See I was thinking about using this," he said menacingly running the edge of the knife along Aramis' throat but not actually cutting him anywhere. "But I decided to do this instead." Grimaud stomped hard on Aramis' potentiallybroken arm. The Musketeer had never experienced pain like it. He yelled out. He couldn't help himself.

Athos and D'Artagnan had heard their brother's anguished screams from the cellar below. They looked at each other in fright.

"What the hell are they doing to him?" D'Artagnan said spitefully.

"Who knows?" Replied Athos, sinking to the floor.

Back up the stairs, Aramis was shaking uncontrollably with the pain.

"That'll do. For now. Porthos isn't due back until tomorrow and they're leaving the day after that. We still have time. Get him out of my sight. Until next time, Aramis. Remember I have your leverage now. You and your friends plan anything, and I go to Paris." Aramis shot him one last look of venom before the door shut between them.

The guards dropped him in the middle of the cellar and left the other two to it. D'Artagnan could barely look at his friend. It hurt too much. Athos sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"He's worse. I can't see anything new," Athos said. D’Artagnan noticed all of Aramis’ attention was on his arm.

“It's his arm. Grimaud must have made it worse. Aramis, give me some kind of response. Any." But by that point, Aramis had passed out.

“What do we do?" Said D'Artagnan. "Do we move him?"

"No," Athos stated firmly. "Not under any circumstances do we move him." The cellar was flooded with six guards. Athos grabbed the first one he saw.

"No. He's hurt him enough already." Then the guard twisted Athos' arm behind his back. Another guard got hold of him too and manhandled him up the stairs. D'Artagnan was in same position whilst the last two jostled Aramis between them. The three were taken upstairs and Aramis on the ground and the other two held on tightly were locked in yet another competition with Georges. He walked over to Aramis and kicked him.

"It's got too much I see, but this time it isn't about him." He produced a gun and pointed it under Athos' chin.

"You won't kill me," Athos said calmly.

"No. I won't. My scouts have noticed a troupe of Musketeer cadets making their way here." D'Artagnan's eyes widened. "Your wife will have told them on her return to Paris." Sylvie was alive then. That was a weight off Athos' mind. "Once they arrive tell them to go, no matter how much they refuse. Tell them you'll be back in two days, three at the most. Just get them to leave. Or his secret is out." He points to the unconscious man.

"Fine,” Athos said. Ten minutes later, a struggling Luc was brought in, accompanied by guards. His eyes fluttered over Athos and D'Artagnan and rested on the unconscious man heaped on the floor.

"Aramis?" He choked, looking for any signs of life in his old mentor. "Aramis! Aramis, no!" Grimaud told him to shut up then ordered his men to let Athos and Luc go. The former grabbed the latter by the shoulders and shook him slightly. Luc's eyes darted between the former Captain and the Minister.

"What happened?" He asked, through sobs, his eyes brimming with tears.

"He's alive," Athos said. He glanced at Grimaud who nodded. "Luc, look at me! Listen to me. I know this is tough, but Grimaud will kill us all, including Aramis if you don't leave now. Aramis, D'Artagnan and I will be back in Paris in two days. We promise you. You can't stay. Tell the Queen were all alive. Aramis'll be fine, Luc. We'll look after him. If you leave now you'll get back to Paris whilst it is still light. Go." With one last longing look at the former monk, Luc left the house. Five minutes later when all five cadets were out of sight, the three were returned to the cellar.

"Luc will be kicking himself," D'Artagnan said.

"I know," replied Athos. "Grimaud's always one step ahead of us. He's too good. He will meet his end at some point though."

"He tried, though. He tried," D'Artagnan said miserably.


	16. Try Anything And He Pays

Dumped back in the cellar, Athos was relieved more than anything else. Sylvie was alive. Back in Paris. Sent Luc and the cadets to try and rescue them. Aramis had really won her her freedom. But Athos was concerned. The Grimaud brothers weren't ones to do good on thier word. He had something up his sleeve. He had leverage. Surely he would use that to bring about the downfall of the First Minister, the Queen and thier son. He had to stay, protect them. They were his family as much as Sylvie and Hubert were. He would do anything, anything to keep them safe.

D'Artagnan was angry. Angry with himself for doing nothing. With Aramis for volunteering and knowing he would constantly get beaten up. With Luc for putting him and the others in as much danger as he did.

But the majority of his anger was directed towards the man that held the three of them captive. Grimaud had beaten a defenceless man over and over again as 'punishment' for a man who killed his brother. He had kidnapped Sylvie as bait. He had destroyed lives. And all they could do was wait. Wonder if Porthos was still alive. Wonder if Aramis was going to live, if they'd even make it back to Paris. They were more likely to end up dead. He had no doubt in his mind that Grimaud planned to kill them before releasing them. Sit and wait. That was all he could do. And he really wasn't good at it.

 

The door to the cellar opened again. Athos groaned. It was Grimaud's monkeys coming to take Aramis again. Couldn't they leave him alone for just a couple of hours? They would kill him soon if they weren't careful. They couldn't hurt him now. He was too far gone.

"Aramis?" Came a gruff voice before he stepped into the room. Instantly, Athos felt relief. It wasn't Grimaud's men. It was one of thier own. Porthos was back. The door was shut and soon as the General was through.

"Athos. Oh thank God. D'Artagnan?"

"I'm here too," came the voice from the corner.

"Aramis?" Athos nodded to the younger man who could actually speak and d'Artagnan moved aside so Porthos could get a proper look at his best friend. "'Mis. Oh God." Porthos skidded over the floor and crashed into the wall beside his best friend. "Athos, what the hell happened to him?"

"What do you think? Grimaud has his lackeys drag him upstairs and beat him up and bring him back down and do it again."

"How long have you been back for?"

"A couple of days."

"And you haven't tried to stop it?"

"Of course I have! What, do you think I wanted this to happen to him? For him to be beaten within an inch of his life?"

"No. No, of course not. I didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it then? I'm at fault for a lot of things, Porthos, but do not blame me for the injuries suffered by our brother."

"I don't Athos. I'm sorry. I'm just angry and shocked."

"It's fine. As am I."

"If I can get a word in edgeways," says d'Artagnan, laying a hand heavily on one each of their shoulders. "When you two are quite finished arguing, maybe we can turn our attention to the man who has just woken up, very confused about what's going on."

"Oh I've missed you whelp." D'Artagnan snorts.

"'Thos. Syl... Vie. Dead. Sorry 'Thos. Sylvie. Dead." Aramis was disorientated. He was suggesting that Athos' wife had been killed.

"No Aramis, she isn't. You saved her. You did."

"Yes. But the three of you can't save him." Grimaud.

"What are you talking about?"

"D'Artagnan," the man smiles slyly. "Care to tell your so called brother what happens if you cross me?"

"Porthos. You have to let him do what he wants. I talked back to him and he took it out on Aramis instead of me."

"I don't break my promises."

"What are you trying to say?" Porthos growled.

"Try anything and he pays."

"You evil bastard."

"Oh, do you want me to start now?" Athos shook his head. Would Porthos ever listen?

"No. It won't happen again."

"Good. Now listen up. I told you that when your fourth returned, I would allow you to go back to Paris. I will allow this to happen." Athos frowned. There was no way it was this easy. "But. Aramis won't be coming with you."

"What?" Athos barked. "That wasn't our deal. You gave me your word that you would release them after our deal had been fulfilled. I killed your men. It's now time for you to uphold your end of the bargain."

"Yes well things have changed since we spoke alone. Aramis is the Dauphin's father. I cannot allow that to go unpunished. You'll get him back. Eventually." Porthos shot to his feet and Athos had to grab him to stop him from lunging at Georges. That wouldn't help anyone.

"We aren't leaving if he isn't coming with us," d'Artagnan stated resolutely.

"Fine, then I'll kill him right now in front of you. Your choice is simple. Leave tomorrow, or he dies."


	17. Separation

"What do we do?" D'Artagnan wondered worriedly.

"It's an impossible choice," sighed Athos. Porthos didn't utter a word. He sat by Aramis, watching his laboured breathing, his face stony. He refused to talk to anyone else. His sole focus was on Aramis and that was where it would stay.

"We cannot leave him to the mercy of Grimaud," said Athos. "With the information he has, God knows what he's planning to do." D'Artagnan rubbed his face.

"He's such a bastard," Porthos growled.

"Finally. He speaks," Athos remarked sarcastically.

"Shut up. This is all your fault!"

"How is it?"

"You're the one who brought us here in the first place. If Sylvie hadn't gotten herself captured. If you hadn't come looking for us for help, without having spoken to us for years beforehand..."

"I was trying to keep my wife safe! Keep my son safe! What was I meant to do?"

"For once stop thinking about yourself. Your so called brother is on the verge of death here."

"I didn't mean for that to happen! I put you all in a hopeless situation. All of this is down to me."

"Too right it is!"

"Stop it! Both of you!" D'Artagnan yelled. "You two at each other's throats isn't helping anyone, least of all Aramis. Yes we're all upset about where we are. No we don't know what we're going to do now. But our friend is here, ill and hurt. Luc told us that Sylvie is in Paris, safe and unharmed. And he would have no reason to lie. So our main focus is getting this one home safely." He pointed to Aramis. "So. What we don't need now is an argument. What we do need on the other hand, is a plan. If you two are going to act like children, then I'm going to treat you as such. Shake hands with each other and apologise. Do it. Now." D'Artagnan stood back, folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, an amused expression on his face. Both Athos and Porthos looked at him indignantly. "I mean it. Do it. Draw a line under it. Move on."

"Fine. If I have to," Porthos muttered under his breath. "Athos, I apologise for blaming you for the state Aramis is on. I know you didn't really have a choice in keeping Sylvie and Hubert safe."

"Good. Athos?"

"Porthos, I am sorry for getting angry with you and for shouting and for not writing to you for all those years. I can see now that I was being neglectful. I won't make the same mistake again."

"Shake hands," guided d'Artagnan. They did so. "Good. Now grow up. You two aren't what's important right now. He is."

"He's right, you know," Porthos says. "So what's our plan?"

"I don't know," Athos admitted. "Truly I don't. We have to be strategic and tactical about this. Things seem to have gone our way so far with Luc and Sylvie but I don't see them continuing to do so. Not with our luck. I don't see us having any other choice than to leave him here."

"What? We can't!"

"He will make good on his threat of killing him if we don't and the one thing I do not want more than anything is Aramis' death. We have to think of the Dauphin. He's in danger now too as a result of this. Grimaud knows this country's greatest secret. If that got out... The Queen would have all our heads for risking her son's life. As would Aramis."

"So say we leave him here, what do we do next?"

 

"Right. Bring them all up here," Grimaud said as he entered the cellar the next morning. Porthos, Athos and d’Artagnan were grabbed by a man each and Aramis was jostled between two. They all trooped upstairs.

“I said I’d let the three of you go today and I will. Athos, Porthos, d’Artagnan, you are free to go back to Paris without fear of harm. This one is staying put. I have further plans which involve him before he can join you there. You can go now.”

“He will not be killed in our absence. Promise me that,” said d’Artagnan.

“Oh don’t worry. Killing him is the last thing on my mind. In fact, I need him very much alive and healthy. My finest healers will be taking care of him. You needn’t worry about his state of health.”

“Then why, if you were so insistent on him being well, did you beat him up so much? So often?”

“For fun. Hurt you while I had you. That kind of thing. You know, he would have been going with you had it not been for his revelation. Athos was the only one I truly wanted to punish.”

“You’ve hurt Aramis and made the three of us kill people. How is that only hurting me?”

“Oh Athos. So naive.”

“‘Thos, what are you talking about? Killing people? I haven’t killed anyone since leaving the war,” Porthos said, confused.

“Yeah, as I already told you, I didn’t kill anybody either.”

“It was just me,” he whispered. Then he fixed eyes with thier captor. “Those men were innocent!”

“As are thousands of others who die for other’s wrongdoings,” Grimaud replied monotonously. “Now, you three, get lost. Go see your precious wife.”

 

The three were on the road.

“I hate this,” muttered d’Artagnan. “He looked so bad when we left.”

“I don’t trust Grimaud, not one ounce, but I do believe he won’t kill him. I have to hold onto that hope.”

“I need a drink,” came Porthos’ low gruff of a voice.

“I concur,” d’Artagnan agreed.

“Tavern?” Athos asked.

“Tavern,” the other two said in unison. D’Artagnan sighed. They would make it through this. Aramis would be returned to them in one piece. Wouldn’t he?


	18. Helpless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back. Sorry for the extremely long hiatus. Life has got in the way. But I’m still breathing and here is a new update for you all.

Aramis was barely lucid. Down alone in the cellar, there really wasn't much he could do and yet a man sat in a chair facing him the entire time anyway. Why? It wasn't like he could go anywhere or try to attack anyone. He struggled to keep his head up and simply constantly wanted to sleep. To be somewhere away from the pain and misery that wove into every fibre of his body.

The man smirked at his helplessness. Here he was, Aramis the famed Musketeer, First Minister of France, reduced to the shell of the man he was before.

Aramis was certain Grimaud would have something in store. Storm the palace and demand a ransom. Kidnap the Dauphin and kill him as his father watched on. Reveal the truth and have the queen and her son exiled and Aramis executed.

Not legally, mind, as there was no higher power than the King, the regent and the First Minister. But no doubt the people in the streets would not take lightly to the Spanish queen having an affair behind her royal husband's back with a thought to be loyal Musketeer. Aramis would be dead within a week.

 

                  ——————————

 

Drink in hand, Athos kept his eyes fixed to the table. None of them had spoken since ordering a second flagon of wine between them.

They didn't quite know what to say. Perhaps there was nothing to say. All their talking had been done before they left Grimaud's house.

And now they were a three. Their friend, thier brother, was still in the clutches of a monster. D'Artagnan eventually broke the silence.

"Whatever Grimaud brings our way, we must be ready. The cadets will be trained as quickly as possible. The whole regiment will be prepared for anything. Knowing what Lucien did to us three years ago, we can assume his brother is just as wily. An attack could come from anywhere, at any time."

"It doesn't feel right, leaving at a time like this," Porthos said.

"Leaving?" Replied d'Artagnan.

"My leave will be over soon. I'll have to return to the front before this situation is resolved. I can't go, knowing my best friend is in the custody of that madman."

"I'm sure if you petition the queen, she'll grant you more leave," Athos contributed. "This is a dire time. She'll be kind enough to allow you a couple more weeks. Hopefully, we will have reached a resolution by then."

"Hopefully."

 

                   —————————

 

"You. Up." Aramis groaned. This couldn't be continuing. Surely, now that there was no one to hurt, Grimaud would stop with the beatings. Aramis was weak. He was almost certain he was on the way to death.

And his life may be cut even shorter if Georges decided that more torture was on the cards. He felt hands on his arms but they soon fell away.

"No. Leave him. He's to get up on his own." He heard faint laughter, but all he could feel was the burning sense of humiliation.

He didn't want to be seen as weak and vulnerable in front of a man who made that his trade.

 

It was no use. He tried in vain, but every time his hands started shaking and he got breathless and he collapsed to the ground. Eventually, Grimaud got his men to drag him out the cellar and up the stairs.

"I've decided to play a little game." His words were wind to Aramis' ears. He couldn't make most of them out. "I'm going to take you to the garrison. I'll leave you out in the open for all your friends to find you. Either they save you and let your secret out, or you die, and the Dauphin's true parentage will stay lost in time forever. Get him on a horse." Aramis was dragged into the light.

After such a long time spent underground, the glaring rays of sun blinded him. He strained to cover his eyes with his hands, but they were in the grips of the other men. He squeezed his eyes shut and blinked them rapidly until they began to get used to the sunlight. He was thrown over the back of a horse on his stomach and his wrists and ankles were lashed to the saddle. A man climbed on behind him and the horse moved on.

 

                —————————

 

Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan stood in front of the queen.

"Your majesty, may we petition for extended leave for General Du Vallon? The situation with Grimaud is developing and it is imperative that Porthos remains in Paris for the duration of such."

"Of course. I will see to it that you are given another three weeks. That should hopefully be enough time. I know how much Aramis means to you, Porthos. I wouldn't dream of sending you away now."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Porthos said.

"It is appreciated," Athos said.

"I hope the four of you can bring swift justice to Grimaud. The sooner this matter is put to bed the better."

"I couldn't agree more," thought Athos.


	19. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s taken me so long. Life got in the way. But here it is. One or two more chapters left. Hope you’re enjoying it despite the long pauses

Stepping back into the Garrison, Athos instantly felt the weight fall from his shoulders. He looked up to the steps by the Captain's office. Each time he still half expected Treville to come storming down the stairs, shouting orders at his men. But Treville was no longer here. If he was, he'd know what to do. Athos didn't have a clue. Aramis was in danger and his first thought was home. He felt guilty for thinking of himself when his friend was still in danger.

"Sylvie? Sylvie!" The last he heard, Aramis has fought for his wife's freedom, and won. She'd been released and he had Grimaud's word that she'd made it to Paris. His word was as thick as water. Luc had made no mention of her.

He heard a baby's cry. He instantly recognised it as Hubert's.

He walked into Constance's apartments. There was his friend and next to her his wife holding thier baby in her arms. She was safe. Unharmed. He smiled.

"Athos!" She yelped. She carefully put Hubert back in his cradle before walking over to him and hugging him tightly.

"Athos, is d'Artagnan with you?" Constance asked.

"Of course he is."

"And..." Sylvie stammered. "And Aramis?" Athos threw his head back and sighed.

"Aramis is still unfortunately under the delightful care of Grimaud."

"How could you just leave him there?" Constance admonished.

"I didn't have a choice!" Athos retorted. "I wish I did. I want this nightmare to be over just as much as you do. I want him back."

"We'll get him back," Constance said slightly apologetically.

 

——————————

 

Down in the courtyard below, Porthos had just handed of the horses to a couple of the stable hands. D'Artagnan had found a flagon of wine and some glasses. He slumped down onto the bench nestled neatly into the table and sighed. He was tired. Tired and bruised and sore. Worried, as Aramis was still a prisoner. Relieved, to be home and at the Garrison with Constance again. Guilty, for feeling such a way.

"Captain? Captain!" An anxious voice rang through the courtyard. Luc. D'Artagnan lifted his head to meet his recruit in the eyes.

"Aramis?" The Minister's old protégé asked, his tone laced with concern.

"He is still a prisoner, Luc. I'm so sorry. Not for long though. Given time, we will free him."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Run along. Help Matthieu rub down the horses."

"Yes, Captain."

 

——————————————

 

To Aramis, it felt like a week they had been travelling when in reality it was less than a day. Being tied face down on the front of a horse with its rider kicking it on at a gallop didn't do anything to ease the pain or to help the situation. He just had to endure it. Grin and bear it despite the hurt it was causing him. Grimaud kept up a quick pace for the whole journey until they stopped at a clearing and Aramis was thrown roughly off the horse and landed on the ground with a thump. He was brought to his knees. Grimaud came to stand in front of him, a pistol held loosely in his left hand.

"Here is what's going to happen. The Garrison is a five minute walk from here. You will be untied. Two of my men will walk you at gunpoint to the front gate. They will be trained on you at all times. You will walk into the courtyard. You will stand there without saying a word. If your companions are there, then we will have a lovely little conversation. If not, the only words you will utter are to ask for thier whereabouts and request that they meet you where they are. I will take it from there. Are we clear?"

"As clear as crystal," Aramis breathed. He hated to do what Grimaud asked of him but the lives of the two most important people in his life were at risk. This had to be played by the book. He prayed his friends found a way to stealthily dispatch Georges Grimaud and didn't come out all guns blazing. That wouldn't end well for anyone.

The men untied Aramis' wrists and ankles and brought him to his feet. He felt an icy feeling on the back of his neck and instantly knew it was Grimaud's gun pressed against his flesh.

"I'll be watching, so don't try anything. Now, move!" Grimaud shoved him forwards and Aramis began to take small, painful steps towards the place he called home.


	20. Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go!! Hope everyone’s enjoying. Becca x

The rain started to pour, but Aramis wasn't put off. In all honesty, he didn't have a choice to let the rain deter him from his mission.

The Garrison gate came into sight in not a long time at all, and as he got closer, he saw all three of his friends huddled together over mugs of wine or ale at the table in the courtyard.

He took a deep breath before advancing towards them. Grimaud had told him to stand in the middle of the courtyard in silence and that was what he was going to do. This had to be played right. No jumps, no scare tactics. Grimaud was ruthless. He could kill any and all of them, no questions asked.

Once he had reached close enough, he stood stock still. His friends were too distracted, however, to notice him. That was until Constance appeared with a pile of blankets.

She blinked. Took a double take.

"Aramis?" He smiled sadly. That got his friends' attention.

"Ara-"

"Aramis?" They stood up quickly and stared.

"He let you go?" D'Artagnan asked worriedly. "After all that, he just let you go?"

"Not quite." Athos looked behind his friend to notice his captor walking towards them, gun in hand.

"Grimaud," Athos sighed. "What more could you possibly want from us? Just leave us alone."

"Come on, Athos. Or are you as thick as my brother made you out to be?" Athos set his jaw and there was a flash of anger in his eyes before it disappeared. "Remember the information I have. That could lead to the destruction of France itself."

"What information?" Porthos asked, curious.

"Oh of course, you weren't back yet," d'Artagnan sighed. "Grimaud knows about Aramis, the Queen and the Dauphin."

"And when we thought all of that was behind us," Athos chimed in.

"Shut up," Grimaud growled. "I only brought your friend back so you could watch him die in front of your faces."

"You won't be killing anyone today," Athos said firmly.

"Try again."

"What have you got against us? Against Aramis?" Porthos growled.

"I told you already. This is Athos' fault. Had he not killed my brother, I would not be here."

"You've hurt him enough!" D'Artagnan exclaimed. "You had Aramis beaten within an inch of his life. You've taken your revenge. Just go. Now. And we'll say no more about it."

"It's too late. Lucien would never forgive me."

"Lucien is dead Georges. You could find your mother. Get to know her again," Aramis said.

"No. She abandoned me. It's too late. I've gone too far. This is how it has to be."

Grimaud pointed the gun right at Aramis' head.

"Suffering makes us stronger."

Bang.

Bang.

Screams and shouts of despair.

Aramis fell to the ground. Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan looked on in shock. Porthos fell by his friend's side.

"Aramis, please, no. Talk to me. Tell me you're OK. Come on 'Mis." A groan.

"I'm good... He just... Caught my arm." Aramis' arm was bleeding pretty heavily.

"Good. We'll get that patched up."

Porthos looked beyond his friend. The bullet had hit Georges Grimaud square in the chest. The gun used to kill the villain was still smoking. And the owner of the gun...

 

D'Artagnan rushed over to him and gripped his shoulders.

"Are you OK?"

"I... I couldn't let him kill him. Not after he saved me."

"I know, son. You did well."

 

Luc was in shock. His first kill. The man who had almost taken the life of Aramis - the only father figure he had ever had. The man who cared for him and all the other children at the monastery. The man who was the catalyst for him to begin his training as a Musketeer under d'Artagnan's tutelage. He couldn't let him die. He had to do something.

He leaned heavily against the wall and breathed. He felt bile rising in his throat as his eyes turned to the corpse of the man he had just killed. And Aramis, also on the ground, gripping his arm tightly. He was breathing. He was OK. He saved him.

 

"I'll go and get this stitched up," Aramis groaned.

"Aramis. Think straight. You've been beaten up. You have broken bones. You've got a bullet stuck in your arm. Please just rest and let someone else look after you for a change," Porthos said, helping his friend stand.

"The palace... I need to get back."

"The Queen knows. She's fine. Just worried about you. Stay here just now. Please." Aramis nodded and relented.

"Fine. Not for long though."

"Whatever you say 'Mis."

 

D'Artagnan entered the Captain's office and sat down with a thump. Their ordeal was finally over. Finally. Aramis was home safe and alive. Grimaud, both Grimaud brothers, were finally over. It was done. He knew Porthos couldn't stay. He would leave soon. Athos possibly. But all they had to do was get through tonight and they could worry about tomorrow when it arrived.

The four Musketeers, together again, in a place of safety.


End file.
